Criminal Lullaby
by Faithful Strings
Summary: After the Reichenbach Fall incident, Britain thought they had dodged a bullet from the most dangerous criminal in history. Sadly, the old-fashioned villain returns with a new trick up his sleeve, one that could flip the tables easily. :: DARK SCENES :: VIOLENCE :: LANGUAGE :: YOU ARE WARNED!


**Disclaimer: I do not own _Sherlock_, only my _own characters_.**

**Criminal Lullaby.**

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**Rating: M**

**Part: 1/?**

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**NOTE:**** Hey guys! So, there's no pairings (as of yet) in this story, I just wanted to write a mysterious story without pairings/smut etc. This is rated M for violence, dark scenes, death & adult language.**

**This story centralizes around Moriarty, and his side of the story, but it's also about a character who's in a reoccurring dream of mine. I'm not going to spoil much, so..!**

**Also, I'm pretty tired whilst completing this, so I'll check for spelling errors whenever I get enough sleep. c:**

**I hope you enjoy.**

**Grammar/spelling errors ahead~**

_**~ Faithful Strings.**_

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Two years ago, James "Jim" Moriarty committed suicide to keep Sherlock Holmes from beating him, and the news had spread around the criminal system rather quickly. Surprisingly, the man wasn't forgotten as quickly as people expected him to be, he was brought up in just about every conversation between teenagers and children; hell, he was treated like some monster that you'd find in a fairy tale. Well, like he said: _every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain_.

Though, this story isn't about the usual love story, oh no; this is a dangerous game between those of the Moriarty family, and those of the angels. This story starts off with Mycroft Holmes, the one who first encountered the danger of the future storm, the one who _added _fuel to the fire without even realizing it; the one who _allowed _it to get to future points.

_SLAM!_

The door slammed open and Mycroft looked up from his paperwork, gazing at Anthea and another officer, who both seemed panicked. Mycroft was silent as the pair closed the door, muttering apologies for disrupting the beautiful silence that had been in the room beforehand. The minor government agent sighed, knowing it was serious if _Anthea _had rushed in without her phone at hand, and focused his attention on the other officer; he was a few ranks below Mycroft, but seemed to be as important as Mycroft was at the moment, which was _amusing_.

"What is it?" Mycroft asked after a moment, and Anthea was the first to speak, sounding terrified and even _reluctant _to speak.

"He's back." Was the only words she managed to get out, and Mycroft felt his lips curve downwards into a cold frown. It was absolutely _dreadful_ that he knew who she was speaking of, the man who had brought the government to their knees and even the unbeatable Sherlock Holmes was brought to the edge; James Moriarty, the most dangerous criminal mastermind the world had _ever _seen. "He.. left you this."

"Are you _certain _it's him?" Mycroft asked, taking the envelope addressed to him from his secretary cautiously. If it _was _Moriarty, then for all he knew; it could produce a bomb powerful enough to take down London itself. After a quick examination, Mycroft identified that the envelope was made somewhere foreign; possibly Russia, possibly Germany, it was hard to tell. The writer was indeed a male, and there was no way of telling if it was Moriarty or not, the font was tidy and curved, but messy and wild; it was definitely hard to tell. The colour of the font was red, and it had a strange resemblance to blood.

"There's no other logical explanation, sir, nobody could pull off the crimes outside better than Mister Moriarty himself." The man stated nervously, watching Mycroft open the letter with extreme caution, obviously expecting something to jump out and kill them all. "He had no connections to other people, he was too smart for that, so even if it _was _somebody else; we wouldn't know."

"Indeed.." Mycroft hummed, taking out the letter and placing the envelope on his somewhat tidy desk, before he unfolded the piece of paper and began reading:

_Iceman,_

_This is definitely a turn in events, isn't it? I bet you thought I was dead, bet you thought I was six feet under! Don't deny it, my plan was far too brilliant for some inexperienced agent to see through. How's Sherlock doing, hm? Did he come out of hiding yet? I feel so sorry for little John, how dare his best friend commit suicide with no explanation? They were so close, you know? You should have seen them, though you probably did, they were all cases and friendship; goggles and bullets. It was adorable!_

_Enough about them, though, let's move onto what I'm after, shall we? I'm after nothing, just a distraction and sweetheart; you're the biggest one I have! Let's see if you can figure out where I am by tonight, hm? This is going to be fun. Expect a few surprises on the way, my dear._

_When you do, meet me at 10:11pm exactly, or.. well, all of London will see!_

_Sincerely,_

_Jim. xx_

Mycroft swallowed and glanced back down to the envelope, placing the letter down and picking up the envelope once again. He heard something shuffle about inside, and the government agent carefully slipped his hand inside, taking out what looked to be a bottle of cream for.. eczema ointment. It took a moment for Mycroft's mind to snap back into focus, but when it did; he got it in a few seconds, much faster than Sherlock had gotten it.

"Carl Powers." Mycroft stated quickly, letting out a noise that suggested he was _mocking _Moriarty. Moriarty had repeated himself, he was sending _easy _cases to Mycroft, and it was _very _amusing. The infamous Moriarty had repeated himself once again, and it was _just _to get Mycroft interested; well, it had worked. He wanted to see if it was _really _Moriarty this time, or if it was just another idiot trying to play the part. "He'll be at the pool."

"The.. pool? The one Sherlock was in?" Anthea questioned, surprised. Mycroft nodded and Anthea opened her mouth, ready to ask the question everyone was wondering.

"I don't know why he's repeated himself." Mycroft interrupted, pursing his lips and cupping his hands together tightly. This was either going to get _very _interesting, or _very _ugly; and if it was Moriarty, there was no way of telling what could happen. "I will need to speak to Sherlock before leaving, he will most likely find out about this, and I need to keep him away; Moriarty is clearly interested in me, and will probably kill Sherlock if he comes near the pool tonight."

"He's currently getting.. _tidied up_." Anthea replied and Mycroft nodded, picking himself up from his seat and walking around his desk. He ignored the questioning gaze he received from the other man, and allowed Anthea to tidy up the letter and envelope, before the pair exited the room and began walking towards the room Sherlock was located in. Well, _this _was going to be interesting.

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_CRASH!_

A table fell over as the enraged sociopath jumped to his feet, surprising the barber who had been tending to his hair. Mycroft sat at his desk, watching Sherlock process the words Mycroft had just told him:

_"We have suspicions that Moriarty has returned, and he seems to have taken an interest in me. You will not get involved, Sherlock, for the safety of England."_

It probably wasn't the best way to go about it, but Mycroft knew that being blunt with Sherlock was better than dancing around the problem. Moriarty seemed to have a bigger plan this time, one that would cause England to stagger and eventually fall. He hadn't wanted that in the first game, oh no; he had wanted a distraction, and Sherlock had been the biggest distraction, and now he was back.. back to harm more people, back to show the world what he could _really _do.

"Why can't I get involved? Moriarty is _dangerous_, do you _really _think he'll allow you to just waltz out of there?" Sherlock snapped angrily, pacing back and forth like some caged animal; which described him perfectly. The perfect dog, a rabid dog caged behind the walls he had built up around himself, the walls that kept his _true _nature locked up and hid it with a façade that would put anyone off.

"You can't get involved _because _he's dangerous, he promised you, didn't he? He will burn your heart out, Sherlock, and he will do it slowly and in the most sadistic way possible." Mycroft replied bluntly, fixing his brother with a glare that suggested he was serious; which he was. He didn't want Sherlock getting involved, and he was willing to go to desperate measures if needed. "You will stay out of this, even if I have to get Mummy involved."

"You _wouldn't_." Sherlock growled, his eyes wide as he stared at Mycroft in horror. Mycroft leaned over his desk and cupped his hands together, narrowing his eyes at the brunette.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he replied tauntingly and Sherlock swallowed, looking away from Mycroft and to the door nervously. Indeed, their mother was a bigger threat than Mycroft was, she was _demonic_; and that was putting it politely. Mycroft didn't miss the tremble that took over Sherlock's body, and smiled wryly at his dear brother. "Moving on."

"How's John? Did you keep in contact?" Sherlock asked nervously, sitting back down to allow the barber to continue his work. Mycroft's smile turned into a mocking one, his tone sarcastic and cold when he spoke.

"Yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips." Mycroft confirmed, supressing a chuckle when Sherlock shot him a glare of frustration. The conversation moved along slowly, and the subject of Moriarty was quickly forgotten by Sherlock, well.. not _forgotten_, but certainly not brought up again.

"Well, I'm sure he'll be delighted to see me when I go back to the flat." Sherlock muttered, his expression and tone as naïve as he came across. Mycroft raised an eyebrow and got up, walking around his desk as he listened to Sherlock hum, practically radiating with positivity about his former best friend, John Watson.

"The flat? Why would he be there?" Mycroft asked mockingly, and Sherlock turned with a look of confusion etched onto his now clean face.

"Why _wouldn't _he be?" Sherlock retorted, probably thinking he sounded _so _incredibly smart with his pathetic comeback. Mycroft took a deep breath in, calming himself down enough to speak without snapping at his obnoxiously ignorant little brother.

"He doesn't live there any more, Sherlock. After the fall of his dearest friend, he moved out; got himself a girlfriend, too. Mary, I believe her name is. But that isn't the point, he's _gotten on with life_." Mycroft explained, causing Sherlock to fall into a moment of silence, before he laughed as if Mycroft was joking; and if it were the funniest joke ever.

"What life? I've been away!" he laughed, and before Mycroft could retort; the door opened, revealing Anthea in some expensive suit, which was an unusual sight for her. Anthea was more into dresses and heels, rather than suits and heels, so Mycroft couldn't help but scoff a little at the sudden change in attire. However, Sherlock didn't seem to pay attention to her attire, and instead turned to the article of clothing she was holding. "Ah!" Sherlock grinned, causing Anthea to smile and hold Sherlock's infamous jacket out to him.

"Welcome back, mister Holmes." Anthea smiled as she helped the brunette to slip his jacket on, ignoring the scolding glare she was receiving from Mycroft. Mycroft couldn't explain the anger he was feeling, and it _certainly _wasn't because he had feelings for the woman; maybe because it was just an obnoxious sight? That was probably it.

"Thank you." Sherlock looked to Mycroft with a smug look, before he turned and exited the room, leaving Mycroft and Anthea alone. Anthea, not allowing her boss to speak and interrupt her, spoke quickly and somewhat quietly; as if she were afraid of Sherlock hearing her.

"There's a message for you, sir." She slipped a phone from her pocket and held it out to him, looking at Mycroft with a look that said it was important. After a moment, Mycroft took the electronic device from the woman's hand, looking down at it with narrowed eyes. It was a rather old phone, and didn't belong to Anthea; as far as Mycroft knew, Anthea wasn't a drug addict or an alcoholic, so it probably belonged to some poor bloke who had made the mistake of gambling with her. "I have other things to attend to." Anthea muttered, excusing herself from the room and closing the door, leaving Mycroft to ponder over what the message was going to be.

'_Ugh.._' Mycroft internally groaned, reluctantly opening the phone up and unlocking it, looking at the home screen with a curious expression. There were no files or apps on it, other than the four main apps on the bottom of the screen, meaning the phone had been wiped of all things that could be used to track the person. Well, going back to the point that it wasn't Anthea's phone, it was _probably _delivered to the headquarters whilst Mycroft was dealing with his brother's antics. Mycroft bit the inside of his cheek and opened the messages, revealing one new message; obviously, he opened it.

_Carl Powers? Dear me, you've gotten rusty. Why would I repeat myself, Mr Holmes? I have no reason to. _

Mycroft felt his eyes narrow at the message, letting out a noise of anger. Of course, it couldn't be _that _simple, and he had fallen straight into Moriarty's trap without a second thought. Moriarty wouldn't repeat himself, even if he had done so with Sherlock; he _knew _Mycroft was different, he _knew _Mycroft would figure out his location and _exact _coordinates if he slipped up. However, Mycroft didn't expect _Moriarty _to be this sly, he had sent him something that would put ideas into Mycroft's mind; he had _planned _to trick Mycroft, and Mycroft had helped execute his plan perfectly. This was getting frustrating.

_Ding!_

Mycroft looked down at the phone, surprised to see another message popping up under the old one. Wasting no time, Mycroft read the second message, making sure to memorize the new information as he did so. This was absolutely unforgiveable, he understood _Sherlock _tricking him; it was sibling rivalry, after all, but the most _dangerous _criminal mastermind? No, that was just a blow to Mycroft's pride, and he _hated _it.

_Tick tock, Mr Holmes, tick tock. I do hope I'll have some entertainment tonight, maybe I'll have to take to blowing up parts of London to keep myself happy? x_

Well, he hadn't expected Moriarty to state something so boldly, and it certainly came to a shock. Moriarty was usually.. _discreet _about his actions, not letting anyone know that it was him; framing other people and keeping curious eyes and voices away. It was amazing, in a twisted way, and Mycroft couldn't help but respect him for it. Anyhow, Mycroft had to get on with this case, knowing that Moriarty would go ahead with bombing London if he was given the chance; he wouldn't wait around for Mycroft to make his move, the _minor_ government agent _had _to keep up with Moriarty, or God knows what would happen.

'_This'll be interesting.._' Mycroft thought, continuing to bite at the inside of his cheek. '_Or maybe London will suffer from a few holes._'

* * *

The hours ticked by painfully slow, and said hours were spent with Mycroft contacting those who knew the city like the back of their hand, trying to figure out just _where _Moriarty was located. Anthea and those at the headquarters stayed away until they were needed, knowing not to bother the genius unless it was _absolutely _needed; and that was rare. The room was filled with sighs and moans of frustration, but Mycroft kept at it until he _finally _got through the networks of London and located Moriarty's exact location.

_Beep! Beep!_

Mycroft swallowed as he looked at the screen, Moriarty seemed to be located in some old, disused warehouse; it was a tad cliché, considering Moriarty was seen as the _villain _of this _fairy-tale_, and it was like every cliché villain to choose a dark, cold, abandoned place for their plot to be revealed. However, Mycroft didn't have time to laugh at the horrible location, considering London was going to be on the receiving end of Moriarty's dark humour if he didn't get a move on. So, instead of contacting Anthea and his driver, he got up and grabbed the necessary items he needed; a jacket and his umbrella, it seemed to be threatening to rain outside, and it was _always _cold before it rained.

'_Time to meet the villain._' Mycroft thought, and he could practically _hear _the mocking laughter of his younger brother; Sherlock _would _be mocking him for this, it was just _so _like him! Well, he _would _be mocking him if he wasn't suffering from a bleeding nose at the moment; Mycroft would have to congratulate John on landing such a good blow on the obnoxious sociopath. After slipping his jacket on and buttoning it up, Mycroft checked his umbrella to see if it was in good shape, and after that; he left the headquarters, making sure to avoid hallways that would be populated around this time of day, and soon enough he found himself sitting in the back of a taxi with a grim expression. "You aren't a _real _taxi driver, are you?" Mycroft asked after a few moments, and the driver let out a snort of amusement.

"You're certainly quicker than Sherlock, sir." The man had a Welsh accent, but it wasn't as thick was _some _citizens of Wales; it was just a faint, but recognizable lilt. "I can see why Moriarty is interested in you."

"Well, would you mind telling me how Moriarty survived, since we're just here chatting?" Mycroft asked and the man laughed, sounding genuinely amused by Mycroft's question, but he calmed down quickly and smiled widely.

"If Sherlock can fake his death, why can't Moriarty?" came the response, before the car turned down an emptier, not so noticeable street. The houses were filthy, their windows cracked and dirty, plants grew out of the most absurd of places and there were no lights on; other than the streetlights, of course. Up ahead, Mycroft could make out the outline of the warehouse he was supposed to be arriving at. Mycroft took in the appearance - or what he could see - of the driver, he was in his late twenties and had almost flawless skin; he had a horrible looking scar over his visible cheek, and Mycroft could tell it was pretty fresh. His hair seemed to be rather.. _fluffy_, and he seemed to be a brunette with a few white streaks through his hair; it was interesting, really. His eyes were also a deep green, but Mycroft couldn't make anything else.

"What's your name, if I'm allowed to ask?" Mycroft asked, noticing the boy was wearing a rather informal outfit; a black hoodie, a pair of deep purple cargo trousers and his shoes were hidden in the darkness.

"Elfyn." The brunette replied, before he stopped the car and unlocked the doors, allowing Mycroft to get out. The older man sighed and placed his hand on the handle, pulling on it and listening for the click of the lock, before he pushed the door open and got out. Elfyn chuckled and rolled his window down, waiting for Mycroft to close the door before he spoke. "I hope you're willing to deal with a child for the next thirty minutes, you must have a lot of practice, considering your brother.." Elfyn trailed off, his lips widening (somehow) into a toothy smirk.

"Thank you for your concern." Mycroft growled wryly, before he turned on his heel and began walking across the gravel. Looking at the warehouse now, it wasn't as bad as Mycroft had imagined; it was _much _worse. There was grime on the bricks and windows, said bricks were falling out of their assigned spots and there was broken glass mixed in with the gravel. The plants had practically taken over the outside, thorns and dead flowers connected together in a horrible maze; but it was somehow pretty, too. Finally reaching the doors, Mycroft entered the old building, attempting to supress a flinch at the loud creak of the hinges on the old doors, but failing miserably. The doors slammed shut behind Mycroft, enveloping the minor government agent in darkness; it was rather eerie, really. "What sort of entertainment do you like, then, sir?" Mycroft called after a moment, and there was a small shuffle, suggesting that someone - or something - was in here with him. "Bombing is out of the question, so don't bring that up, you aren't a child."

_FLASH!_

Suddenly, the lights switched on with a horrible flicker that caused Mycroft to cover his eyes with one arm. He hated surprises, especially _bright _ones; Sherlock used to tease him about it frequently, but that was unimportant at the moment. It seemed like the villain was finally revealing himself, and his suspicions were confirmed when a box fell from a shelf, causing nothing but dust to fall out into the already gloomy air.

"Dad, he's pissing me off.." a quiet voice whispered, it sounded like the voice of a child, or at least a teenager. Even if it was a whisper, Mycroft could make out the thick Irish accent that coated their voice like thick honey, making them sound sweet and comforting, yet sharp and dangerous. "Why can't I play with funny people? He's obnoxious!" the voice raised a little, knocking Mycroft out of whatever daze he was in, causing him to lower his arm and allow his eyes to adjust to the bright light.

"I thought you wanted entertainment?" Mycroft replied calmly and there was more shuffling, whilst Mycroft tried to find the source of the voice, examining the shelves until his dark eyes landed on a slim figure peeking out from behind a shelf. Surprisingly, the voice fitted the age of the person; they were a teenager, possibly about fifteen or sixteen. Though, that wasn't what surprised Mycroft the most, oh no; the thing that surprised him the most was the _gender _of the person! Instead of a male, a female stood with her bright eyes gazing at Mycroft, looking bored and _hardly _interested. "Where's Moriarty?"

"Dad, he's asking for you." The girl muttered, shifting her gaze to the side, as if the man was right next to her. "Nn.." she nodded and turned her attention back to Mycroft. "Dad's not interested in speaking to pathetic idiots like you." She stated, before she slipped out from behind the shelf and walked until she was directly across from Mycroft. Mycroft followed her with his eyes, watching her every movement; she moved in a lazy manner, which was the complete opposite of Moriarty's usually bouncy, playful step. Her shoulders were slouched and a bored frown was on her lips, though they twitched every few minutes, as if she were holding back a smile. The girl turned to face Mycroft, gazing at him with an almost mocking look in her eyes; which were a bright shade of green, though they had visible shadows under them, suggesting she suffered from insomnia.

"Who are you, miss? You've mentioned 'Dad' a few times, too?" Mycroft asked curiously, though he was already working out the answer. The girl shrugged, reaching into her pocket and digging around for a moment, before she took out a lollipop and unwrapped it.

"You're supposed to be smart, and fun." She muttered, dropping the wrapper to the ground and holding the sweet in front of her face momentarily. Mycroft narrowed his eyes, wondering just _what _Moriarty was thinking, sending a _child _to deal with Mycroft instead of showing up himself. The girl, however, held a distinct look that reminded the older man of Moriarty; she had pale skin and dark hair, her figure was also quite short and her outfit was pretty similar to Moriarty's. Said outfit consisted of a white shirt and a black blazer that had a few buttons done, but messily; as if she couldn't be bothered with them. A pair of black leggings made the bottom half of her outfit, and a pair of black converse boots were on her feet. "Sebastian is funnier than you, and I hate Sebastian, he always follows dad around." The girl placed the sweet in her mouth, sucking on it and watching Mycroft with those same eyes.

"What do you find funny, then? I'll try to be as entertaining as possible, miss..?" Mycroft watched her eyes widen a little at the question, before she calmed down and continued sucking on the sugary sweet in her mouth, examining him quietly.

"Um.. I'm Cass Moriarty, I'm kinda like your new arch nemesis, but we're on completely different levels; I'll beat you within a month." The girl, Cass, introduced in an almost polite manner. Mycroft felt his lips twitch in dry amusement at the statement, wondering if she knew just _who _she was dealing with; she was practically asking Mycroft, the most intelligent Holmes next to his mother, to become her arch nemesis. Cass was merely a teenager, she was _far _too young to be defying him in such a way.

"Well, miss, wouldn't it be better if you just ran back home to your father and let him tuck you in with a kiss goodnight?" there was a low crack after Mycroft's taunt, and Mycroft watched the lollipop stick drop from her mouth, nothing but a few small pieces of the green sweet stuck to the plastic stick. Cass licked the sticky substance off of her lips, before she shifted her weight a few times, as if she were growing the confidence to speak; and when she did, saying Mycroft was _shocked _was an understatement.

"Don't fucking mock me, you _idiot_!" her voice raised into a loud, angry shout that echoed around the abandoned warehouse, her facial expression turned from bored to one filled with hatred and rage. Mycroft felt his body act on its own accord, bringing him back a few steps from the teenager, which surprised him; he had never done that before. Mycroft was somebody who stood up to such evil things in the world, and he was _known _for being cold and fearless in such situations; but, a single teenager (one shorter and thinner than him, too) had caused him to step back subconsciously.

"Are you sure you're related to Moriarty? You have such vulgar language." Mycroft crooned, attempting to keep his voice level, but he could hear it crack near the end; it was pathetic, really. _He _should be the one scaring Cass, instead of getting scared of such a pathetic child!

"He says I took after my mother more." Cass replied, seeming to have calmed down a little, considering she was taking out another lollipop and unwrapping it. "But I have his brain and looks, other than my eyes; I got my eyes from mixed genes, apparently. He never speaks about it, says it's unimportant information." Cass explained quietly, her lips curving back down into a bored frown, her shoulders relaxing into a lazy slump and her eyes becoming bored again. "This was fun, but I have to get going. Dad gets all girly when I'm late for dinner, and threatens to take away my sweets." Cass then turned on her heel, beginning to walk towards the back of the warehouse, where a door with a large '**EXIT**' sign above it was.

"Wait!" Mycroft snapped, realizing he had gotten pulled completely off track. Cass slowed her steps a little, but didn't come to a complete stop like Mycroft expected her to. "What are you and Moriarty planning?" well, so much for sounding intimidating and intelligent.

"Um.. what're we up to..?" Cass asked curiously, as if she were confused by the question. "Um.. dad did say something about it.." Cass came to a stop when she reached the door, her hand resting on the handle. "I'll be in touch, mister Holmes." For just a moment, Cass sounded interested in something, but it quickly slipped back into that bored tone. Before Mycroft could retort, she pushed the door open and disappeared into the darkness of the evening, leaving Mycroft to wonder just _what _had happened.

'_Is this what Sherlock went through..? Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to contact him for tips on how to deal with a potential psychopath._' Mycroft thought, letting out a sigh and slipping his hand into his coat pocket, taking out his phone when he found. Well, he _certainly _wasn't going to stay in an abandoned warehouse for the rest of the night! As if on cue, the lights switched off with a low hiss, which caused Mycroft to speed up the process of texting Anthea.

_I got myself into something dangerous, mind picking me up? - MH._

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**Note: Well then, I'm glad I finally managed to write this up.**

**So, basically this _isn't _a love story, it's a story about two relatives (Jim & Cass Moriarty) creating a dangerous game between them and 'the side of the angels'. There _may _be future smut for different reasons, and I'm not taking the chance in rating this as a T, because I _know _some bratty kid will be like 'lol reported xox'; so yeah.**

**The rating is for several reasons, like the mention (and some flashbacks) of rape, self-harm & there'll be graphic violence in future chapters.**

**Cass has some personality traits of Amaimon from Ao no Exorcist/Blue Exorcist, because I thought it'd be a good idea to draw Cass & Amaimon in a picture together, and it just kinda _happened_.**

**Again, I'll check for spelling errors whenever I get enough sleep, so please deal with them until I _do _get said amount of sleep.**

**I hope you enjoyed.**

_**~ Faithful Strings.**_


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